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The steel of Thorin’s sword grated out a harsh melody as it clashed against his enemies’. The orc’s weapon was crude; the blade notched and rusted with old blood. No match against the superior might of the sword Thorin had claimed from the treasure hoard, the hilt bearing the mark of Durin himself.
The fight was a familiar dance. His sword arced through the air with a practised grace, the sun glinting off the sharp steel as it slashed through the orc’s poorly forged armour. Thorin quickly kicked the orc to it’s knees and slit it’s throat, already turning to meet the attack of his next opponent before it’s body had even hit the ground.
One by one the vile creatures perished by his blade. Thorin cut his way through the very thick of the battle, all the while keeping a sharp eye out for the members of his company, ready to assist should they need aid.
A flash of blue steel in his periphery vision had Thorin immediately turning. For a moment he doubted himself, for surely it could not have been Bilbo. Thorin had banished the traitor, there was no reason left for him to fight. The hobbit should have been half way on the road home by now, thinking only of his cosy armchair and warm hearth that awaited him, far from the chaotic madness of the battlefield.
But then Thorin saw him, clearly this time. Bilbo appeared for but only a moment. He kept low to remain unnoticed amongst the confusion, slicing low at unsuspecting enemies with his sword, Sting, before he abruptly vanished again.
Thorin waited for the burning anger to build at the sight of the thief. For the bitter taste of betrayal to sit sour and heavy on his tongue. But it never came. Outside of Erebor, far from the massive mounds of glittering gold, Thorin’s mind had cleared. The thick fog of gold lust had finally lifted, leaving him with only the heavy weight of guilt lining the pit of his stomach like lead.
Bilbo had been a good and true friend throughout their journey to Erebor together. He’d been cunning, brave and had saved Thorin’s life, and the lives of the company, on more than one occasion.
But then the foolhardy little thief had not only chosen to steal the greatest of all Thorin’s treasures; the Arkenstone, but he had delivered it directly into the hands of their enemies. Greedy men and elves alike, who would just as soon snatch the entire treasure hoard to claim as their own, with no thought left to spare for Thorin and his company who had risked life and limb for it in the first place.
Blinded by his madness, Thorin had dangled the hobbit over the battlements and threatened to throw him to his death, dashed against the rocks. Thorin had threatened the life of his own beloved, before he had carelessly cast him aside, cursing his name and very existence as he banished Bilbo from the very Kingdom he’d helped reclaim.
A screeching goblin charged at Thorin, forcing him to focus as it drew him back into the fight. It waved it’s weapon wildly before itself as it ran. The axe it held was clearly of dwarrow make, the chittering creature having purloined it from one of Thorin’s fallen comrades from the Iron Hills. He twisted to one side to avoid it’s wide swing, bringing his sword back around as he spun and sliced the goblin’s head clean off.
“Thorin!” Bofur shouted from nearby. The miner was struggling to hold his own against two orcs, his trusty mattock barely fending off their attacks. A goblin arrow had pierced through his armour and embedded itself in his shoulder, making it harder for Bofur to wield his weapon. Thorin quickly snatched the axe from the ground, twirling it in one hand before throwing it with all of his strength. The axe flew through the air and hit one of the orcs in the back with a dull thud. The orc let out a pained grunt before it crumpled to the ground, dead. Bofur was able then to quickly slay the remaining orc, shooting Thorin a fast grin and a nod of thanks before he disappeared back into the swarm.
Thorin cursed and yelled as he fought his way through the chaos, shoving past blasted elves and dwarrow alike, cutting down any and all enemies that stood in his path. He searched for any glimpse of the hobbit, but Bilbo was nowhere to be found. Thorin had to find him. He could not die on this battlefield without first making peace with his beloved.
A low snarl was Thorin’s only warning as a huge warg and it’s orc rider charged him from behind. He barely managed to lift his iron shield in time, blocking the heavy blow of the rider’s blade, before the warg knocked him to ground with it’s large paws.
Thorin quickly rolled back to his feet, swinging his sword around to fend off the warg’s sharp teeth whilst raising his shield defensively against it’s rider. The warg caught hold of his shield in it’s large maw, yanking it painfully off where it had been strapped to Thorin’s arm and breaking it with a powerful snap of it’s jaws.
The air seemed to shimmer behind the rider for a second before suddenly, Bilbo appeared out of nowhere. With a viciousness that Thorin would never have expected to see from the hobbit, Bilbo ran the rider through with his sword. The orc gurgled, it’s face full of shock as it stared down at the glowing blue blade pierced through it’s chest. It fell from it’s seat on the warg’s back, pulling Bilbo down with it as they tumbled to the ground. The warg turned it’s attention to the easy prey as Bilbo struggled to scramble out from beneath the orc’s corpse.
Thorin took advantage of it’s distraction, stabbing the foul beast between the ribs before slicing his sword through it’s thick neck. The warg fell at his feet with a pitiful whine, before death finally clouded it’s eyes and it lay still.
“Bilbo,” Thorin sighed in relief, helping the hobbit back to his feet.
Bilbo quickly pulled back and eyed him warily. He kept his head held high and he glared at Thorin defiantly as though daring the dwarf to be angry for saving his life. Thorin grimaced at the reaction, though it was no more than what he deserved.
There was much he had to atone for before he could even think to begin to make amends for his many wrong doings. Thorin wished to say as much to Bilbo, to beg for his forgiveness and hope to gain his beloved’s trust once more. But guilt wiped his mind blank and made his tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth, until the only words he could find to utter were, “Will you marry me?”
Thorin felt about as shocked by his own question as Bilbo appeared to be. His eyes were wide as he gaped at Thorin with a dumbfounded expression. His jaw worked as he struggled to formulate a reply, before an orc cut between them with it’s sword, interrupting the moment.
“I hardly think now is the best time, Thorin!” Bilbo yelled back, fending off the orc’s attack before Thorin struck it down.
It may have been the adrenaline from the fight rushing to his head making him rash, but now the question had been asked, Thorin realised he wanted nothing more for than Bilbo to say ‘yes’. To know that, if they survived past this battle, he would have the chance to spend the rest of his life making amends.
“Now might be the only time we have!” Thorin shouted back, resolved in his decision, ducking into a roll to avoid the wide swing of a large, gruesome looking flail. He kept low until he was close enough to stab the orc in it’s stomach through a gap in it’s armour.
“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed as he drew back to the hobbit’s side, placing a gentle hand on Bilbo’s arm. “I love you.”
Bilbo stared at him with a look akin to wonder. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, his unruly curls clinging to his forehead that was damp with sweat. His cheeks were flushed, though his face was pale and his clothes were torn and ragged. But then he smiled. Just a small, cautious little grin that dimpled his cheeks and lit up his eyes. And it took Thorin’s breath away.
Bilbo’s smile quickly fell as his eyes flicked to something over Thorin’s shoulder. “Duck!” he yelled abruptly, yanking painfully on Thorin’s braids to pull him down.
An arrow whizzed past their heads, missing Thorin by a hairsbreadth. “Blasted elves,” he grumbled, wincing when Bilbo freed his hands from where they had tangled in Thorin’s hair.
“Sorry,” Bilbo muttered, grimacing sympathetically.
“No,” Thorin said, gently taking Bilbo’s smaller hand in his own and holding it close to his chest. “I am sorry. I have wronged you many times over and can only beg for your forgiveness. I was weak and I succumbed to the madness that curses my entire bloodline. My lust for gold and jewels blinded me to what was truly precious. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold like you, it would be a merrier world indeed.”
“Thorin-” Bilbo started, cut off when they were set upon by a small group of goblins.
They fought back to back, swords dancing to the music of the battle cries. Bilbo fought surprisingly well for someone who barely knew how to wield a sword, and together they made short work of the goblins.
Thorin winced as he rolled his shoulder back. One of the goblins had managed to get in a lucky blow before he ran it through, but it wasn't a major injury. Bilbo remained thus far unscathed, save for a few minor scratches here and there.
“If I am to pass on to the Halls of my Forefathers before this battle ends, I wish to do so knowing that I could call you my own, if only for a moment,” Thorin confessed. “It is a selfish desire, I admit, and I do not deserve you or your forgiveness after how I treated you with such cruel disregard. But it is what I wish for, nonetheless.”
Bilbo huffed, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. He stepped closer and gently tugged on Thorin’s braids until he lowered his head and rested his brow against Bilbo’s. “You are the most stubborn, thick-headed and foolish dwarf I have ever met, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo told him, his voice a harsh whisper. “And I am still so very cross with you.”
“I know,” Thorin replied.
Bilbo pushed him back with a small grin, twirling his sword in one hand as they were pulled back into the fray. Thorin recognised the movement as something Fili tended to do and wondered when Bilbo had learnt such a thing.
“Gandalf!” Bilbo shouted, slicing down a goblin before skittering back to Thorin’s side. The grey wizard was fighting alongside a group of dwarves from the Iron Hills on a rise nearby. “Gandalf! Marry us!”
“Confound it all, Bilbo Baggins!” Gandalf yelled back, wielding his staff and sword with a skill and dexterity that belied the deceiving appearance of his age. “I'm a little busy at the moment!”
Thorin could not help the smile that split his face and he huffed out a laugh before turning to cross swords with an orc. The knowledge that somehow, despite everything, Bilbo was miraculously willing to marry him left Thorin feeling lighter and happier than he had felt in a very long time.
“Gandalf!” Thorin shouted. When any moment on this gruesome battlefield could be their last, not a second could be wasted. “Gandalf, now!”
“Very well!” Gandalf huffed back, sounding extremely bothered by the whole affair. Raising his voice to be heard above the din of the fighting, he began, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today-”
A chittering goblin charged for the wizard, it’s sword quickly struck from it’s grasp by a wide swing from Gandalf’s staff.
“At a time that is most inconvenient for a wedding,” he continued gruffly, slicing the goblin down whilst simultaneously knocking back an orc with the butt of his staff. “To bind together the lives of this most stubborn dwarven king of Erebor and exasperating gentle-hobbit of the Shire.”
Thorin ducked past a couple of elvish archers in their gleaming armour, taking Bilbo’s hand that was already stretched out towards him and gently tugged him closer. He wished he could use this moment for his vows, to proclaim to the world how much he loved Bilbo. How he admired his bravery, wit and kind heart. But such declarations would have to wait.
“Bilbo Baggins, do you take me to be your husband?”
“I do!” Bilbo cried, laughter lilting his voice.
Thorin grinned back, spinning away to avoid an orc’s blade. He quickly raised his sword to block it’s next swing. Bilbo took advantage of the opening, ducking underneath his arm to stab the orc through the stomach.
“Thorin Oakenshield, do you take me to be your husband?” Bilbo panted out, quickly yanking Sting free from the fallen body. He moved closer, remaining alert of his surroundings even as he waited for an answer.
“I do,” Thorin said easily, without hesitation. Bilbo beamed up at him, his eyes bright with joy.
“With Eru and Aulë as my witnesses,” Gandalf called out, trading blows with an Orc almost twice his size. He knocked it’s feet out from under it with his staff before running it through with his blade. “I now pronounce you two ridiculous creatures as husbands!”
Without even waiting for Gandalf’s permission, Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck and tugged him down, kissing him soundly. His small lips were soft against Thorin’s own, warm and gentle. Pulse pounding and adrenaline flowing, Thorin groaned and wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s waist, pulling him tighter against him. A moan escaped from Bilbo as the kiss became more sure and aggressive.
Long fingers wound into his hair, eliciting a gasp from Thorin as they tugged gently at his scalp. For just one short moment, nothing in the world mattered beyond Bilbo and this kiss. But the battle continued to rage around them and, with great regret, Thorin pulled away.
The sound of hooves drew their attention as Fili and Kili came charging up to them, both riding the large war goats Dain had brought along with him from the Iron Hills. Thorin was relieved to see the both of them alive and well.
“Uncle, we’re outnumbered,” Fili told him quickly, pulling on the goats reins to try and keep it steady. “More Orcs have come down from the East. Dale is overrun.”
“There’s just too many of them,” Kili added, sounding desperate. “We need a new plan of attack.”
Thorin frowned, eyes scanning the battlefield. He quickly spotted the distant figure of Azog, standing on the summit of Ravenhill, giving orders to his men from a safe distance. His hatred for the pale orc flared at this show of cowardice and he quickly spat out his orders. “Kili, find Dain. Tell him to round up his men and focus on protecting Erebor’s gates. Fili, find Dwalin. We’ll regroup at Ravenhill.”
Fili nodded sharply before snapping his reins and riding off back into the fray. Kili watched him go, his mouth a thin line as he was clearly reluctant to leave his brother’s side, before dutifully riding off to fulfil his own orders.
“What are we going to do?” Bilbo asked, hurrying behind Thorin as he marched towards a war goat that had somehow lost it’s rider. It bucked it’s head when he first grasped it’s reins, but remained docile as he mounted it’s saddle.
“I’m going to take out their leader,” Thorin snarled, glaring heatedly at the distant figure before looking back down at Bilbo. “You, husband, are to stay with Gandalf.”
Although he was still leery of the grey wizard and his meddling ways, he knew that he could trust Gandalf to protect Bilbo to the best of his ability.
Bilbo sputtered like a wet cat, grasping the edge of Thorin’s tunic to prevent him from riding off. “I most certainly will not! I'm going with you!”
“This fight does not concern you,” Thorin said sharply, watching as Gandalf steadily made his way towards them, quickly dispatching those that stood in his way.
“On the contrary, husband, I believe it does!” Bilbo hissed back with a fierce scowl. “I'm not about to let you go off all death-or-glory to fight Azog by yourself!”
“I will not argue with you on this, Bilbo,” Thorin snapped, pulling free from the hobbit’s grasp before kicking in his heels to set the war goat into motion.
“Thorin!”
He ignored Bilbo’s dismayed cry, looking back only long enough to call out to Gandalf, “Keep him safe, wizard!”
Thorin charged through the enemies forces, the war goat easily ramming past orcs and goblins alike with it’s large curled horns, whilst he cut down the ones that defiantly stood their ground. Dwalin, Fili and Kili soon joined him and together they quickly broke free from the fray, making for Ravenhill.
There was no doubt in Thorin’s mind that before this battle’s end, either he or Azog would fall. But with the memory of Bilbo’s bright smile alight in his heart; the taste of his kiss still fresh on his lips, Thorin swore that he would not be the one to die this day.